


Swan Feather

by a_la_grecque



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:05:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_la_grecque/pseuds/a_la_grecque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After completing his own quest, Will Stanton tries to help another Old One with his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflager](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/gifts).



_I can’t do this on my own._ It was an inescapable fact, Egil was going to need help. It wouldn’t be easy to find, either. He ran through his list of possibilities and found it disturbingly short. He thought with a brief stab of longing of his brothers, but they would be no more equal to the task than he was. No, it would have to be one of his masters.

It was not an easy thing to ask. His masters were good, that was beyond doubt; but good did not mean kind, nor yet did it mean gentle. A vision of piercing eyes set in a hawk-like face swam before him, and his lips trembled as if at the touch of a swan feather. Perhaps, after all, it was worth one more try. 

He gritted his teeth and stepped back into the chamber. The air hummed like a broken fluorescent lamp as he approached the bow. The wood gleamed as if he had just oiled it, kept safe all these years by the enchantment that he was unable to break. The foul taste of the damp air was a constant reminder that the rest of the burial mound was under no such enchantment. 

Ignoring the buzzing in his head, he spread his fingers and shouted all the words of command he could think of, in the old tongues and the new. The words ripped from his throat, leaving the flesh raw and flayed but the bow unmoved. 

He should have been more cautious before he threw down Nithad, should have used the gift of knowledge that coursed within him always, whether he heeded it or not. With Nithad gone and his spells unbroken, the bow was taken beyond time; closed off from him in this year or in any other. He might use his talents to weave his way through the centuries but the results would always be the same. There was only one who could release it now. 

He retreated from the tomb, relishing the sting of the cold but clean air as it seared his painful throat. He bent his will to make the call; across the mile, across the centuries if need be, for he could not tell where his master might be wandering. He didn’t know if his weapon would make a difference in the coming battle, but this was no time to take chances. In the final fight, every willing hand might be needed. 

All unbidden, he pictured his brother in the smithy forging sword after sword, chained now by the servitude of beauty but still bound. He remembered all the birds flying free, the soft thuds as they fell to earth, the blood on his hands as he plucked their feathers and tried to weave freedom from them. Until that moment he didn’t truly understand that he had failed, or that the failure was not of his own making. 

He would do this thing, but not alone. He called, but not just to his master; a great wordless shout to anyone who would listen. He did not have the power to command the Circle but he hoped his grief would have the power to sway their hearts. _Will you help me? Will you come?_

***

Thousands of miles away Will Stanton was asleep and dreaming. He was surrounded by feathers from all the birds of the air, falling from the sky like snow. He closed his eyes and spread his hands wide like a small child, and feathers brushed whisper soft against his face and the tips of his fingers. He opened his eyes and found that all the feathers had turned black. Harsh croaking filled the air and he looked up to see the sky filled with clouds of rooks. 

He woke with a start, as if someone had called his name. The dream slipped away as the familiar outlines of his attic bedroom reasserted themselves in the gloom. Will shivered, although the snows of the early part of winter were long gone, the long nights were still cold and there were feathers of frost etched into his skylight. He rolled over to squint at his alarm clock, and decided that 6:00 a.m. was probably late enough to get up rather than trying to go back to sleep. He padded downstairs and into the kitchen, stifling a yawn as he sat down at the table. 

As usual, his mother was up early. Even after her accident, she’d ignored the doctor’s advice and started hobbling around after just few days. She pushed a cup of tea over to him with a smile. 

“You’re up early today.” 

Will shrugged. “Woke up with a start and it didn’t seem worth staying in bed.” 

“It’ll be all that excitement making you restless, I expect. And I suppose you’ll be wanting to pack and repack your bags a few more times before you leave.” 

Will grinned at her. “Maybe. I think I’ll just about have time to help out with the animals though.” 

“Make sure you wrap up warm before you go out to the barn then, it’s frosty out there,” his mum said. 

”OK.” Will slurped down his tea and headed for the stairs. 

Dutifully kitted out in jeans and a heavy jumper, he bounded back into the kitchen and almost knocked over his big sister Gwen, swathed in a dressing gown and clutching a mug. 

“Oi, watch where you’re going! Honestly, one measly singing competition in Sweden and he thinks he can just run rough-shod over the rest of us.” 

“Sorry Gwennie,” Will said, “I wasn’t expecting to see you up at this time.” 

Gwen shook her head and sat down at the table with their mother. Raq and Ci ran over looking expectant so Will grabbed a pair of gloves and headed out into the morning. The dogs disappeared off to patrol the yard and Will was left on his own to feed and check on the birds and the rabbits. He smiled to himself as he worked. Gwen had only been teasing but he was excited about his trip. 

It had all seemed rather sudden but a few weeks ago his music teacher had announced he wanted Will and two of the older boys in school to go and sing in an international competition during half term. Much to James' annoyance, he wasn't one of the ones who were invited, so will had been trying to hide some of his excitement. He also wondered if he should really be feeling excited, after all the things that had happened since his birthday. A trip abroad didn't seem so special for an Old One, but Will had found it surprisingly easy to put aside that other part of his life and go back to being an almost ordinary boy. He stopped his work to give Chelsea a tickle under the chin before moving on, humming the pieces he had been working on for the competition.

***

The sea was rough and choppy, and Mr. Johnson looked nervous as they boarded the ferry. Concentrating hard, Will could smell the storm coming, he could almost see it swirling and building over the ocean. He wondered if there was a way he could break it to his teacher gently, when he was distracted by the sight of a tall man with a shock of white hair disappearing around a corner in front of him. _It can't be, can it?_

Will's presentiment about the storm proved to be entirely corrected, and before long the music teacher retired to their cabin, followed shortly afterwards by the two older boys, who were looking distinctly green. And so Will found himself left entirely to his own devices and wandered about the boat quite happily, untroubled by any hint of seasickness. Part of him was indulging the natural curiosity of an eleven year old boy on a big ship, but the Old One side of his nature wanted to know if it could possibly have been Merriman that he saw, and if it was him then what was he doing there, and why hadn’t he made contact with Will. 

Eventually he found he had exhausted the possibilities of the ship, and he installed himself on one of the decks, clinging tightly to the handrail. The storm had abated somewhat, but the winds were still wild and spray from the waves below fountained up towards him. He gasped at the pleasurable shock of the water hitting him. He tried to recall his lessons on the oceans from the Book of Gramarye, and brought back snatches of words and an image of a white lady, dancing. 

Lost in recollections, he was completely unprepared for an intrusion into his thoughts. 

_Well met, Sign-Seeker._

Will whirled around to find his mentor standing before him. “Merriman!” he said, “It-“ He stopped. _It was you!_

_It was me._

_But why? And how?_

_Because we have work to do, of course. And as for the how, I simply purchased a ticket for the ferry like everyone else._

Will was practically bursting with excitement. _But how did you know I’d be here? What is there that we need to do in Sweden?_

_You’re obviously not thinking like an Old One right now, Will. We’re going to Sweden to answer the call for help, and if you weren’t so focused on your everyday life you might have paid more attention to it yourself._

Somewhat abashed, Will couldn’t help but ask _Isn’t this all some kind of marvellous coincidence, that I happened to be going there anyway?_

Merriman’s eyebrows shot into the air and he laughed. _Will, do you know how you came to be entered into this singing competition?_

_Well, it was all Mr Johnson’s suggestion._

_And how do you think Mr Johnson came to hear about it?_

Will was silent. 

_Let’s just say that a certain musical lady of our acquaintance may have made a small suggestion when they met at a concert. Quite by chance of course._

Will was puzzled. _But then, you must have known we would need to come here, and…_ He fought for memories that were slipping away from him. _I did hear the call, but it was only this morning, it woke me up when I was dreaming, dreaming about…_ The delicate skein of memory snapped. _I don’t remember what._

Merriman’s eyes darkened. _We may need that memory before we’re through. And you’re right, I did know in advance, or rather, I strongly suspected._ He sighed. _I think Egil has needed help for a long time now._

Will was solemn. _Merriman, is this about one of the Things of Power?_

Merriman smiled, but no happiness touched his eyes. _Not this time, Will. But there are other things that will be important for our final battle. Powerful things, if not Things of Power. And yet, that’s not truly why we’re here either. A strong heart can be as useful as any weapon, but even the strongest of us can be beset by the Dark._

_But why me?_ Will asked. _I’m the last and the least of the Circle; ‘new awake,’ the Wal- Hawkin said, I’m hardly used to this new part of my life._

Merriman’s smile had a little more warmth in it now. _That is precisely why I need you with me. Now come, we have work to do._


End file.
